


"neither of you is getting extra credit for this"

by owlinaminor



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drabble Collection, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>on tumblr, I asked for prompts to help me practice writing kieren and simon.  I got four, three of which were college au's.  they turned out pretty well, so I'm posting them on ao3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"neither of you is getting extra credit for this"

**"fic prompt: university AU - Kieren is studying art, Simon is studying government and politics. they bump into each other in the library when both going over to the last empty chair. How do they decide who gets it? Or do they just... share??" - breakfastbiscuitsfordinner**

Kieren knows he should have gotten to the library earlier.

It's exam week - everyone's stressed out, pulled in five directions, struggling to get by on two hours of sleep and five cups of coffee.  Kieren should have known that, at nine P.M. on the last Thursday of the semester, the library would be full to capacity with frazzled students trying to cram everything they possibly can into their brains before the next morning.  He should have left his dorm at five, or four, or even gone straight from that day's exam.  And he definitely should not have stopped to sketch his favorite tree in the center green before coming to the library.

But alas, he did - and now, there are no seats in the alcove next to the windows, there are no comfy chairs left unoccupied, and there are no tables at which he can spread out all of his textbooks.  Actually, Kieren doesn't see any seats at all, except for one lone chair in the corner of the main reading area.

Well, if there's only one seat left, he's got to get it.  That's non-negotiable.  Kieren takes one step and then another, picking up as much speed as he can without actually running, and then -

Someone else gets there first.

More specifically, Simon Monroe from his philosophy class gets there first.  Kieren knows him well, has argued with him many times - he's clever as hell with a talent for convincing the rest of the class to agree with his views, no matter how morally wrong they may be.  Sure, he's attractive, in a Catholic school boy-turned-punk hooligan kind of way, but that doesn't give an excuse to sweet-talk everyone he meets into agreeing with him.  (And, yeah, he's a political science major, which doesn't exactly help Kieren's opinion of him.)

This guy may win most of their class debates, but he is _not_ getting that seat.  Kieren grits his teeth and marches forward the last couple of feet.

"Get out," he says.  "I saw it first."

Simon grins at him, all too pleased with himself.  "Yeah, but I _got_ it first."

"I have an exam tomorrow morning, too," Kieren argues.  "It's not fair to push me out of the library just because you happen to be a little bit faster."

"It is fair," Simon replies.  "I'm faster, so I got it, so you go somewhere else.  Survival of the fittest."

"Survival of the fittest is an antiquated, arrogant, selfish social construct and you know it.  Give me that seat!"

By this time, most of the students in the immediate vicinity are glaring at Kieren, but he doesn't particularly care.

Simon rolls his eyes.  "You're an art student, right?" he says.  "Aren't all of your finals just turning in a painting or something?"

"No," Kieren seethes.  "I have an art history exam tomorrow morning, it might be the hardest class of my life, and I can't go back to my dorm because my roommate is already done with exams and has been marathoning Lord of the Rings, _loudly_ , in our room, and it's way too cold outside to go study there.  This library is my only hope."

"Should've gotten here more quickly, then," Simon says.  And with that, he opens his own textbook - history of government, from the looks of it - and starts to read.

Kieren glares at him for a good half minute or so, then, when that appears to have no effect, sits down on the floor next to Simon and takes out his sketchbook.  He can't study properly from here, not without enough space to lay out his textbook and notebooks, but he can draw.  And draw he does: Simon and all of the philosophers he idolizes up to their necks in vats of blood, Dante's Inferno-style.

The sketch is almost finished by the time Simon looks over and notices what he's doing.  "Wow," he says, quietly.

"Pissed?" Kieren asks, ready to gloat.

"No - more impressed."

Okay, so that might not have been the response Kieren was anticipating.  It must show on his face, because Simon explains, "Nobody has ever drawn me before, and your likenesses of Locke and Darwin and Nietzche are amazing.  Incredible."

"But ... I'm mad at you," Kieren says, just in case that wasn't clear.  "We don't agree on anything."

Simon shrugs.  "Doesn't mean I can't admire your artwork.  And, for the record, I admire your ideas, too - and how you keep arguing in class, even when everyone else says you're wrong."

Kieren knows this is an invitation to admit that he admires Simon's smart ideas and his skill in stitching words together to form arguments that would convince almost any non-believer, but he stays silent.  "Thank you," he says instead.  "But my art is not that great, and I'm probably going to fail my exam tomorrow."

Simon thinks about that for a moment, then suggests, "We could share."

"What?"

"Share the seat.  These chairs are plenty big, and there's enough room at the table for two people's textbooks."

Simon Monroe: political science major, clever as hell, and surprisingly kind, when the situation arises.

"Alright," Kieren says.  "Why not?"

He stands, gets out his textbook, and sits down next to Simon on the hard-backed wooden chair.  It's a bit cramped, four legs and only a few feet for them to share, but Kieren's honestly just glad to have something to rest his back against after nearly an hour on the floor.  And Simon is pressed right up against him, warm and very present, sending a strange, tingling feeling up his leg to parts of his body he really didn't think he'd need to worry about while studying art history.

The two of them don't move from that seat, not even when the library starts to empty and the rest of the chairs at their table become unoccupied.

* * *

**"Hello there, since you asked for prompts, how about Siren children AU? Like kindergarten or something? :)" - leoiswithoutidea**

 Amy loves recess.

School is nice, of course, with playtime and naptime and the stories that Miss McCoy reads at the end of the day, but it's boring inside the school.  The whitewashed walls are too bland, the air is too stale, and the lights are too dim.  During any lesson they do, Amy would rather be outside, feeling the sun on her face and the breeze in her hair.  Every day at eleven-fifteen, she runs out in front of all of the other children, ready to play the new game she thought up that morning - today is no exception.

Amy races to the trees on the far side of the playground and starts to examine their roots for a good place to put her current game-plan into the works.  A few seconds later, Kieren comes up behind her, breathing heavily.

"So, Amy," he asks, "what're we gonna do today?"

"Fairy houses!" she replies.  She stretches up on her tiptoes and grabs the highest tree branch she can reach, then picks off a couple of leaves.

"Fairy houses?" Kieren repeats.

"Little houses for the fairies to sleep in when they come visit the school during the night," Amy explains.

Kieren's eyes get very wide, like pools of hot cocoa.  "They do that?  I didn't know they did that!"

"Of course they do, dum-dum."  Leaves collected, Amy starts collecting twigs with which to build a foundation.  "Now, come on.  Let's do this!"

While most of the other kids in their class are off kicking a football around, climbing on the monkey-bars, or playing jump rope, Amy and Kieren build fairy houses.  They prop little sticks up against the trees (foundations), then cover them with leaves (roofs) and put in some rocks and grass (tables, chairs, and beds.)  The other children don't really talk to them, but that's okay.

Until Amy turns around to look for more sticks and sees a small boy in a huge, green sweater standing next to the tree.  He's got dark hair and blue eyes the color of a clear sky, and he doesn't look like he wants to be mean.

"Hi," Amy says.  "I don't think I know you."

"I'm Simon," the boy replies.  "I just moved here."

"Well, I'm Amy, and this is Kieren," she tells him, pointing at first herself and then Kieren as she speaks.  Kieren gives a little wave and a smile.

"We're making fairy houses," he says.  "Want to help?"

"Sure."  Simon kneels down next to Kieren and gives him a hand in propping twigs up against the tree, steadying the foundation with careful hands.

Amy goes out into the fields for a couple minutes to look for more supplies, and when she comes back, they're talking about Harry Potter - "I'm going to go see the new movie the night it comes out, my dad promised he'd take me!" and "That's so cool, I wish I could come." and "I'll ask him, maybe you can!"  Part of her is a little jealous that Kieren has a new friend - that he won't just be her BFF anymore - but mostly, she's happy that he's happy.  And there are so many more possibilities for games, now that there are three people playing!

When the bell rings for the end of recess and all the children begin to file back inside, Amy starts to race back in.

"Come on, boys!" she calls behind her.  "I can't go into school without my entourage!"

"Why are we her entourage?" she hears Simon ask.

"I don't know," Kieren replies.  "What _is_ an entourage?"

"I think it means we should follow her," Simon says.

And the two of them start running, too, hand in hand.

The sun is warm, the breeze is beautiful, and they have to go back inside - but there will be another recess tomorrow.  Amy grins.

* * *

**"Siren prompt! University AU: 'we’re the only people who ever talk in discussions it’s awful' (yes I stole it from the post you reblogged earlier but dammit, isn't it perfect for these dorks?) English or art students arguing over artists/writers. Kieren think all your favourites are overrated, egotistical, pompous idiots Simon and he WILL CONVINCE YOU! (And then become your new favourite because whoa can this boy art/write!) ;D" - anonymous**

Professor Edwards is annoyed.

No, annoyed isn't a strong enough word, and she's a professor of literature at a top-tier university, she should be able to pick something better.  She is exasperated, she is aggravated, she is furious.  She is a hundred-years-dormant volcano seconds away from erupting.  She is a professional with a class to teach and two idiots who can't stop arguing about Les Miserables are _not letting that happen_.

Honestly, she had suspected that Simon Monroe would be a troublemaker the minute he walked in to class - or, more accurately, swaggered into class two minutes late with a self-assured smile and no notebook to speak of.  Kieren Walker, on the other hand - the quiet boy who spent his first class in the back corner sketching and always said, "Have a nice day," when he left the room - she hadn't seen coming.  But when Simon raised his hand and preached his opinions at every question, Kieren had started to fight back, and now, she can barely even pose a question without the two of them going at it like a couple of Americans arguing over their pigheaded version of football.  The rest of the students were shy to begin with, but now they're downright terrified of speaking out.

Today, it's five minutes into class, and Kieren and Simon are already head and shoulders into a debate about Victor Hugo's philosophy.  And they aren't even reading Les Mis.

"I just don't understand how you can admire that book so much," Simon is saying.  "It's not a book so much as it's a long-winded, preachy, over-dramatic ode to people in poverty written by someone who probably had never even stepped into the slums of Paris."

"Right, like Dickens or Dostoyevsky are any different?" Kieren retorts.  "And it may be long, but it's beautifully written and full of hope."

"Full of hope?" Simon raises an eyebrow.  "I'm sorry, did we read the same book?  It's called Les _Miserables_.  Miserables meaning _really bloody sad_."

Kieren shakes his head.  "You're not looking at it closely enough.  Yes, the book is about poverty, and terrible things happen to most of the characters, but ultimately it is a message of optimism.  The book proves that forgiveness has the power to change people for the better, and that any person can do good things no matter how terrible their past was, and that poverty does not necessarily mean your life is going nowhere."

By this point, Simon's head is turned to watch Kieren as he talks - as his voice grows louder and more impassioned and his eyes blaze bright with conviction.

"And yes, the revolution fails," he goes on, "but it's still such a noble effort and it shows that humanity will always try to push back!  I mean, the musical version doesn't end with Valjean dying, it ends with the entire chorus singing in heaven.  'To love another person is to see the face of God,' and, 'The day will come when all will be concord, harmony, light, joy, and life,' and, 'There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes.'  Hugo thought that every person had the potential for greatness - how can you call that pessimistic?"

Simon takes a deep breath, and replies, "I think you're incredible, and I would love to talk about this more over coffee.  Or lunch, or dinner, if you prefer.  Like, as in, on a date."

And the entire class bursts into applause.  The combination of cheering, clapping, and shouts of, "It happened by midterms!  You owe me ten quid!" is so loud, everyone almost misses Kieren's response.

He stares at Simon for a long moment, eyes wide, and then grins.  "Yeah, okay."

Simon smiles so widely, it's hard to believe he was arguing about the horrors of the human race a mere few minutes ago.  "Okay," he says.  "Is tomorrow afternoon fine?"

"Sure.  Coffee at that shop on High Street?"

"Whatever you want."

They continue grinning at each other for another few seconds, the rest of the class completely ignored.

Professor Edwards sighs.  "Neither of you is getting extra credit for this."

* * *

**"Ooo, or 'I need to draw a complete stranger for my art class. I have legit REASONs!' And of course this beautiful boy with impossible eyelashes picks you Simon because damn. - Siren University AU Prompter. <3 <3" - anonymous (the same person as the previous prompt)**

Simon is lying on his back in the grass in the center green.

It's warm out, but not too warm.  The sky is perfectly blue, the blue that young kids color in the tops of their pages when they're told to draw a landscape.  Simon has grass for a pillow, a new book to read, and no class for the rest of the day.  Life honestly could not get better.

"Um, hello?" says a voice from above him.

Simon closes his book and blinks up into the sunlight, only to have his view blocked by the face of the boy standing over him.  He's got a nice sort of face, with less sharp angles and more rounded curves, and the most enormous brown eyes Simon has ever seen.  Simon had been considering taking a nap here in the afternoon sun, but he definitely isn't now.

"Hi," he says.

"This is going to sound kind-of weird, so I need you to know that I'm not a creepy stalker or anything," the boy begins.  Simon raises one eyebrow - doesn't say that he's ready to hear this guy out, creepy stalker or no.  "But, um, I'd like to draw you for my art class."

Simon doesn't answer at first, so the boy continues to explain, "We're supposed to sketch a random stranger.  It's a weird exercise, I know, but my prof's quirky like that, I guess.  And I saw you lying on the green and thought you weren't in a hurry to go anywhere, so ... yeah.  Is it okay if I draw you?"

So, he's an artist.  Okay.  Simon is definitely okay with that.  "Sure," he says.  And then, "I've never been drawn before, is there anything in particular I should do?"

"It's not as glamorous as it looks in the movies," the boy replies.  He sits down next to Simon, drops his backpack, and pulls out a sketchbook.  "And you're fine where you are.  Just lie there - or on your side, maybe - and keep reading."

"Alright, then."

Simon does as he's told, but he only gets through a few sentences before the artist says, "I'm Kieren, by the way.  Kieren Walker."

"Simon Monroe," Simon tells him.  "I'd offer to shake your hand, but I don't think I should be moving right now."

Kieren laughs at that.  He has a lovely laugh, like ringing church bells, and Simon feels warm and a bit tingly inside, knowing that he made that laugh happen.

The two of them continue to talk as Kieren sketches.  Turns out, they've taken a few of the same classes - even though Kieren's an art major and Simon's more of a polisci and religious studies kind of guy - and they compare opinions on everything from a professor's lecturing style to how interesting the course readings were.  Neither of those are points they agree on, but that doesn't stop them from talking.  Kieren has a fascinating way of looking at the world that Simon's never seen before - he's an optimistic depressed person, as he describes himself, and his opinions are refreshing compared to the snobbish intellectuals in most of Simon's classes who only try to one-up each other without actually caring about the substance of anything.

Simon has never been sketched by a beautiful stranger before, but based on this experience, he wouldn't mind it happening again.  (Or maybe not by a beautiful stranger - maybe just by this particular beautiful stranger.)

Before Kieren stands to go, Simon asks to see the sketch.  (It's incredible, makes him look like some kind of character from a storybook ready to go out and change the world.)  He fishes out a pencil from his jacket pocket and quickly, lest he loses his nerve, scrawls his phone number on the bottom of the page - then closes the notebook and hands it back to Kieren, smiling.

"Thanks," Kieren says.

He heads off to his next class, sketchbook dangling from one hand.  Simon watches him go with what he'd swear are butterflies having a serious rave in his chest.

&

_the next day, 10:06 A.M._

_Unknown Number: hello, new favorite male model.  how is this strange and beautiful miracle we call existence?_

_Simon: Kieren?_

_~~Unknown Number~~ Kieren: great guess.  and how is it?_

_Simon: Good._

_Kieren: is it really?  be honest._

_Simon: It is, since you texted me._

_Kieren: ... want to go have coffee later? :)_

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come say hi on [tumblr](http://liberteegalitehomosexualite.tumblr.com/)!


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